


sunday mornings

by preromantics



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunday is Girl's Day. Morning apartment fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sunday mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ on 10/13/09.

Having time off from the show is nice, quiet. The press storm has died down (at least for the next week and a half; Dianna's schedule is blissfully empty, and Lea's is mostly the same.)

Sunday is Girl's Day. Lea misses quiet, sometimes. The little bit of control she can relinquish over the apartment on Sundays when there is no one there but her and Dianna and sometimes the phone is nice.

The apartment has windows in it's main living room that stretch down to the floor, and Dianna bought floor length sheer curtains for them that filter the light in yellow-golden, even on cloudy days. Lea hadn't especially liked them, but Dianna had brought them in as one of the first things they bought for the place, loaded down with groceries with a bright grin on her face and Lea couldn't find room to argue.

(They argue, sometimes. Mostly after long days, both trying to maneuver around the kitchenette, elbows and hair everywhere, smelling of sweat and press rooms and static sets. They argue about who drank the last of the organic apple juice or who ate the last of the weird energy acai berry chews that one of their PR reps dropped off. They argue about hitting notes and who is better and snipe and grope about the dishes.

Lea, personally, thinks it's great. Dianna is different from her, beautiful in a classic, blond-hair, bright-smile, charming-voice way. She fights different and wakes up different -- hair a mess on her head, sticking up around the top like a birds nest, eyes puffy.

She's sort of an amazing roommate and an amazing person to come into Lea's life. She's also a little bit gorgeous. Lea can't even find room in herself to be jealous for long, because all she wants to do when they are at home is make sure they both stay in their pajamas for as long as possible.)

Of course, Dianna doesn't know any of that. Dianna is good, probably doesn't lay in her bed across the hall and think about laying Lea out on the bed rolling up the edge of her shirt in a neat, rhythmic way until her chest is bare and her hands are grasping at the sheets.

Of course she doesn't. Only Lea thinks about stuff like that in the dark whatever physiological corner of her mind has been created by stress and hormones. Of course. That's her excuse, at least.

Anyway, Sundays are Girl's Day. Last Sunday they had a TV appearance and Lea had done sound bits for a radio station while Dianna stayed out late at a little fashion event -- Lea doesn't remember what the event was, which probably shows how tired she's been lately, but she does remember being vaguely annoyed she couldn't be there too, and resorted to looking up the event images on Getty the next morning, watermarks and all.

This Sunday they made A Plan. It involved ice cream, episodes of Friends, no boys at all, (unless it was Chris, because he liked ice cream and Friends, too, and generally made jokes that had Dianna doubled over on the couch, bent enough that her shirt would ride up in the back and Lea could follow the line of her spine which was always -- nice -- but.)

Lea had made a list on the fridge the night before, bolded SLEEP IN at the top of it. Dianna drew a smiley face on top, YES!, and that's exactly what Lea did.

She padded down the hall quietly when she did wake up, resisting the urge to peek her head into Dianna's room (she had just had it painted a really nice light blue, almost gray. In the morning it made her look like she was the brightest thing in the room.)

Dianna was already up, though, curled around a couch pillow and staring at the slant of yellow-orange light coming through the curtains.

"Hey," Lea said, quiet. She already knew what was up, probably -- Dianna must have gotten a call from her mom early, nit-picking over every little detail of her life. It grated on Lea's nerves to know end, just to hear the conversations through the muffled speaker of a phone and she couldn't imagine how Dianna could deal with it. Generally she did this, curled up somewhere and mellowed and Lea hated it.

"What happened to sleeping in, huh?" Lea asked, trying for a bit of humor. Dianna turned on the couch, rolling her neck back to grin softly at Lea.

"We do have all week to sleep in, you know." Dianna's voice sounded resigned, though, like maybe she was rethinking their plan of tv-ice-cream-fun for the day and week to come.

Lea sat down to her side, pulling her feet up under her so she could curl her toes into the corded material of their couch, habit. When Dianna didn't say anything, Lea sighed, schooched in closer and rested a hand along Dianna's back, rubbing in small slow circles.

"Di," she said, "hey. It's our Girl's Day, come on." Dianna's skin was warm under Lea's hand, soft even through the material of her tank top.

Dianna let out a soft breath. When she turned her head to look at Lea, her smile was stunning, morning-soft. She leaned down onto Lea's shoulder in one press with a small laugh. "You're so good," she said, her breath hot on Lea's skin.

Lea skated her hand higher up Dianna's back, curling her fingers hot around her neck. "I'm always here," she said. "You don't have to -- your family --"

"Don't," Dianna said, cutting her off. Lea could almost feel the drag of Dianna's lips on her neck when she spoke and tried not to shiver. Tried.

"I think," Lea started, peeling herself back as best should could without acting like she was letting go of Dianna on purpose, "that we should make waffles for breakfast and top them with ice cream and whipped cream and strawberries and --"

Dianna groaned, pushing Lea off the couch. "You need to stop talking and start doing," she said, grinning. "That sounds way too good." She sounded more like herself, now, more bright, more beautiful. Lea grinned, shuffled backwards into the kitchenette, dancing out of Dianna's grasp as she started getting things from the fridge.

Lea liked to cook. Her family wasn't especially a cooking family; Lea remembered lots of rushed take out and boxes backstage at various plays while she grew up, so home cooking held a special place as being better than anything else.

Dianna walked up behind her while she set up their waffle maker, wrapped two of her long, toned arms around Lea's waist. "I have to shower," she said, right into the hair covering Lea's ear. "I expect a feast when I return."

She squeezed her arms, and Lea breathed out at the feeling, smiling down at the waffle maker. Right before Dianna let go she leaned in all the way, wrapped around and pressed a kiss to Lea's cheek.

Lea went to turn, skin bright and hot -- she wanted to reach out for Dianna but Dianna jumped out of reach, head thrown back and eyes sparkling. "I want extra whipped cream!" she called, halfway down the hall.

Lea didn't call back, just watched Dianna disappear into her room. She shook the whipped cream can to gauge what was left, a little of the cream landing on her finger. She sucked it off, thinking and unfocused, the skin on her cheek tingling with the imprint of Dianna's lips.

Sunday mornings were the best.


End file.
